


Of Trench Coats and Sentiment

by ForeverShippingJohnlock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel's Trenchcoat, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverShippingJohnlock/pseuds/ForeverShippingJohnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The coat wasn't just a coat, it was a symbol of Castiel's journey; his journey that told stories of family, belonging, betrayal, heartbreak, forgiveness, humanity, and most important of all, love."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Trench Coats and Sentiment

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I'm really excited about this one. I've been working on it non-stop for a few days and I'm quite pleased with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it! And thanks as always to the lovely and wonderful and just basically supercalifragilisticexpialidocious Fiona (fionasank) for being my faithful beta buddy ily :3

_"Love is a force more formidable than any other. It is invisible - it cannot be seen or measured, yet it is powerful enough to transform you in a moment, and offer you more joy than any material possession could."_

_\- Barbara de Angelis_

-line break-

If you asked all the people who had ever met Castiel to name something about him that makes him stick out in their mind, they could answer with a few different things. They could say it's his perpetually rustled dark hair, or his piercing ocean blue eyes, or even his backwards tie, but the answer more often than not would be his trench coat. To most people, his trench coat was just an interesting wardrobe choice- yet another quirk to an already quirky personality- but most people would be wrong.

When Castiel chose Jimmy Novak as his vessel, those were the clothes that the devout man just happened to be wearing. However, over time, the coat became a sort of security blanket. When the going got tough (as it so often did), Castiel would find a secret comfort in the baggy article of clothing. He felt, as absurd as it was, that he could hide amongst the coat's seemingly infinite fabric and folds. Not only was it a shelter in which Castiel could take temporary refuge, the trench coat held many memories, memories that he would later treasure.

The coat wasn't just a coat, it was a symbol of Castiel's journey; his journey that told stories of family, belonging, betrayal, heartbreak, forgiveness, humanity, and most important of all, love.

-line break-

Castiel's trench coat had begrudgingly embraced more than its fair share of tears and innocent blood spilt, but its absolute lowest point was when it was covered in the inky black substance that bore the mark of Leviathan.

It would be a severe understatement to say that Castiel has made some mistakes throughout his time spent with the Winchesters. However, it deserves to be said that he did what he did because he thought he was doing the right thing. Not that that makes a difference of course, but it's worth knowing. And the worst mistake he ever made would be when he ingested all of those souls from Purgatory. At first it had made him feel like… well, like a god. He let himself get wrapped up in the selfish yet euphoric feeling of being in charge, to not have to take anyone else's orders, to run things the way he felt they should be run. Although when he realized the grave mistake he had made and returned the souls to Purgatory, the Leviathan held on. Knowing their time would be short-lived if they remained within the weakening vessel, they made Castiel walk into that river and release them.

That was how Dean Winchester ended up with a dirty, washed up trench coat being the only remnant left of his best friend.

-line break-

Emmanuel led a happy, if somewhat hollow, life. It was simple yet pleasant, but he always felt an emptiness inside of him. He felt like something was missing. He didn't know what that something was until he saw the mysterious man with the green eyes kill a monster on his doorstep. As Emmanuel led the man into what had become his home, he felt a strange jolt within himself, a sudden sense of belonging. As he looked at the man- Dean, as he soon identified himself- Emmanuel saw something very real and important in his eyes. There was recognition, sorrow, relief, and a storm of many other emotions raging behind those captivating green irises.

Later as they drove, Dean told him stories of Cas, a friend who had betrayed him horribly. Emmanuel gathered that this man had meant much to Dean, whether he admitted it or not. Again, Emmanuel felt that same tug of recognition. He tried to grab onto it, but it always danced in his subconscious just out of reach. Although, the more time he spent with Dean, the more he realized that something was most definitely being kept from him.

When the truth did inevitably come out, Emmanuel was floored. An angel of the Lord? Him? No, of course not. He was just a man. Admittedly, not a strictly normal man, but a human being all the same. However, when he managed to smite the demons, the memories that had previously lay dormant in his subconscious started to throw themselves at him, and it _hurt_.

He remembered everything. The barn. The banishing sigil. Breaking Sam's wall. The deal with Crowley. The souls from Purgatory. _Dean_.

Piece by piece and memory by memory, "Emmanuel" shattered and Castiel stood in his place, guilty and ashamed for all the wrongs he had committed. He was angry with himself for letting things get so out of control, and he took some of it out on Dean. He had let this man down so wholeheartedly, had disappointed him, left him, and still Dean defended him. A part of him was happy, but the rest of him knew he didn't deserve this treatment.

_I deserved to die. Now I can't possibly fix it, so why did I even walk out of that river?_

_Maybe_ to _fix it_.

When Dean pulled the trench coat out of his trunk, Castiel couldn't speak. It was a seemingly small gesture, but it spoke volumes. It said, " _I knew you'd come back_ ", " _I never lost hope_ ", " _I'm willing to try_ ", but most importantly it said, " _we still have a chance_ ". As the trench coat exchanged hands, neither of them said a word, they didn't need to. They just looked at each other and knew.

Although it was still filthy, Castiel put it on. When he shifted Sam's hallucinations upon himself, he kept it on. And when the Winchesters were forced to leave him behind at the mental institution, he would still put it on occasionally. Sometimes, he would simply hold it. During his descent into madness, it was a tangible yet fragile reminder that all hope was not lost.

-line break-

After everything with the Leviathan was all said and done, Dean and Castiel found themselves stuck in Purgatory. When Dean finally laid eyes on his angel after being separated for so long, he pulled Castiel into a tight embrace. Although Castiel was pleased to see him, the reunion was bittersweet. However much he didn't want to, Castiel had left Dean for his own good. He knew that creatures- the likes of which someone's worst nightmares couldn't even conjure up- would be hunting him ruthlessly. He had to keep Dean safe, he owed him that much. It was a task that would be incredibly difficult now that Dean had found him. He was proved right. After a while of arguing, Castiel reluctantly acquiesced and left to find the portal with Dean and Benny.

Purgatory was miserable, to say the least. The weather was terrible, the living conditions were less than ideal, and they always had to be on their guard for whatever would try to attack them next. Needless to say, when they stopped traveling for the night, not much sleep was to be had. Castiel offered to keep watch, seeing as how angels didn't require sleep. At first, it seemed that Dean was a little nervous about the prospect that Castiel would fly off and leave again, but Castiel assured him that he wasn't going anywhere. He certainly wouldn't leave the two so defenseless while they lay vulnerable and asleep.

One night, it was hideously cold. Castiel didn't think too much of it, and Benny seemed impervious as well, considering he was already in a deep sleep. Dean however, was in a fitful doze. He tossed and turned, his breath visible in the chill night air. After a moment of watching sympathetically, Castiel couldn't bear to see Dean suffer any longer. He stood up, shrugged off his trench coat, and walked quietly to where Dean lay curled up against a tree trunk. Carefully, Castiel draped the fabric over Dean's shivering form. Dean, still mostly unconscious, pulled the coat tighter over himself. Castiel smiled as Dean's shivering slowly came to a halt. Seeing that Dean was in a more comfortable state, Castiel walked back over to where he was keeping watch and settled in for the night.

The next morning, when Dean woke up covered in the trench coat, he looked momentarily confused. As the realization set in, Dean stood up and walked to where Castiel was still seated watching him. Dean wordlessly handed the coat over with a brief nod of thanks. The two men met each other's gazes with a small smile.

In that moment, they each felt a shared… something- that unknown mysterious variable that had been closing in on them for some time. Though they didn't acknowledge it, they both knew it was there. They just didn't know what it meant yet.

Little did they know that they would soon find out.

-line break-

After the angels fell, it took Cas a while to stumble his way back to the bunker. When he finally got there and Dean opened the door, Cas more or less collapsed into his arms, exhausted both physically and mentally. Dean caught him and helped to steady him. They shuffled down the hall to Dean's bedroom where he set down the former angel on the bed gently. Cas fell asleep- for the first time in his entire existence- almost immediately.

For the next few days, Cas continued to sleep in Dean's room while Dean took the couch. Cas spent those days in an almost comatose trance. He would spend most of his time in Dean's room, just lying on the bed, doing nothing. Dean would check on him occasionally, bringing him food or just seeing how he was. There was a certain blankness to Cas' gaze that was unsettling. Sometimes Dean tried to talk to him, but Cas never replied for how could he possibly find the words for what he felt?

Dean would make sure that Cas showered and changed, but the trench coat would remain atop whatever clothes he was wearing. Dean didn't question him about it, for which Cas was grateful.

However, after about a week, Dean approached Cas, who was in his usual position lying on Dean's bed.

"Cas? Buddy? How about you give the coat to me. It could do with a wash, man." he said tentatively. Cas immediately sat up and looked at him, wide-eyed. "I'll give it right back, I promise." Dean assured him.

"I can't." Cas said quietly, his voice hoarse from disuse. He clutched the trench coat around himself a bit more.

"Why not?" Dean asked curiously. Cas looked away. The blankness in his eyes was gone, only to be replaced with a profound sadness. Dean didn't know which one was worse.

"It's… all I have left." Cas mumbled. Dean sat down beside Cas and put a comforting hand on his knee.

"Cas… you know that's not true. You've still got me and Sammy. We're always- _I'm_ always- gonna be there for you." Dean said sincerely. He watched as Cas' eyes filled with tears. Cas let out a strangled sob and Dean immediately gathered him a hug.

"Shh, it's okay, man. Let it out." Dean said soothingly as Cas sobbed harder into his chest.

They spent quite a while like that, Cas crying miserably as Dean tried his best to comfort him. After a while, Cas' sobs subsided to small hiccups and he slowly raised his head to look at Dean, his eyes still shimmering with tears unshed. Dean looked back at him, concern evident in his expression. Without thinking, Dean reached forward and wiped the remaining tears away from Cas' face with his thumb. Cas looked a bit shocked, but seemed to have no problem with it. Cas' eyes flicked to Dean's lips, and Dean's did the same to Cas', but neither man moved. Dean cleared his throat, trying to relieve whatever tension now hung thick in the air between them.

"Thank you, Dean. I'm sorry to burden you." Cas said.

"Cas, you're not a burden. Not to me, not to anyone." Dean replied solemnly. Then he motioned to Cas' coat. "Let's get that clean, huh?"

Dean then proceeded to slide the coat from Cas' shoulders. Cas let out a small involuntary gasp at the sudden contact. Dean paused his ministrations and looked at Cas, a question in his eyes. Cas' pupils were blown wide, mirroring Dean's. Agonizingly slowly, Dean continued to remove the trench coat, taking care to slide his hands sensually down Cas' arms. Cas' breathing hitched. Once the trench coat was off, Cas expected Dean to leave, but he didn't. Instead, he reached for Cas' tie and loosened it, bringing it over Cas' head. He then unbuttoned Cas' shirt, letting his hands trace the planes of Cas' chest. Cas suddenly grabbed Dean's wrist and Dean looked at Cas, worried that he had gone too far, but Cas just leaned forward and connected their lips. It was gentle at first, but quickly gained heat and passion. Dean got closer to Cas and maneuvered their bodies so that Cas was lying on the bed with Dean on top of him. Their remaining clothes were soon divested after that.

They spent the night worshiping each other's bodies. They explored each other with a vigour unmatched by any. It wasn't so much about the sex itself, but rather the intimacy of two people who were each letting the other know that they were needed. All through the night, promises and declarations of love were whispered into sweat-slicked skin, kisses trailing them. And, as both men lay sated in each other's arms, they fell asleep with the knowledge that they weren't alone.

And that they never would be again.

-line break-

After that night (with many more just like it), Cas slowly but surely stopped wearing the trench coat. It was put away in the back of the closet, forgotten. However, it would make the occasional reappearance.

There was the time that Cas was walking by his bedroom in the bunker (the one that he and Dean now shared), and saw something that made him pause at the doorway. Inside stood Dean, who held the trench coat in his hands. He was looking at it with a fond expression, lost in memories of a time long gone. Sometimes Cas would see a flicker of pain in his eyes, as a painful memory would cross the threshold of his consciousness, but it quickly turned to a playful glimmer as the sad memory was replaced with a happier one. Then, to Cas' surprise, Dean brought the trench coat up to his face and, letting his eyes fall closed, inhaled. He brought it back down, a smile on his face. Cas smiled also and before he could be noticed, he turned and walked back down the hall, deciding to leave Dean alone with his thoughts.

There was another time, years later, where Dean and Cas (now happily married) stood in the kitchen of their new home chatting with Sam, who was there visiting. They had abandoned their old profession in favour of what Dean referred to as "the apple pie life". Just as Sam was describing his current girlfriend and his plans to return to Stanford to finish his law degree, he was interrupted as Dean and Cas' son came stumbling into the room and the three men broke into simultaneous raucous laughter.

Johnny, almost five years old at the time, proudly walked into the kitchen with a goofy smile on his face, dressed in his father's old trench coat. The coat was a bit big on even Cas, and it completely drowned the young boy. The sleeves came down well past his arms and the length of the coat trailed behind him. Dean continued laughing as he ruffled the boy's untidy dark hair and swept his son up into his arms, balancing him on his hip. Cas leant over and pressed a kiss to Johnny's head, feeling incredibly blessed.

-line break-

They never got rid of the trench coat, but Cas didn't need it- not like he used to. He didn't need to hide because what was there to hide from? He didn't need shelter because Dean had become his shelter. Along the way, Cas realized that it wasn't an article of clothing that defined who you are; it was a definition that you wrote yourself.

And besides that, Cas also found that Dean's love was infinitely better than any ratty old trench coat.


End file.
